


All This and Heaven Too

by Omano



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, Human Lucifer, Human Michael, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Michael, but only mild and in control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demons have been a constant company to Lucifer from an early age. They whisper behind his back, they flash pearly black eyes in the edge of his vision and depending on their mood they either try to convince him to act up to his name as the Prince of Darkness or they are making plans about how to overthrow his reign. Lucifer has tried several things throughout the years to keep them at bay, but now that he doesn't push him away he found the best weapon against the shadows. The Viceroy of Heaven with the flaming sword.</p><p>Meanwhile Michael tries to keep balance between playing his role in the battle that's raging on in Lucifer's head and making sure his dear Morning Star is all right despite all accidents and injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This and Heaven Too

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some break from my other fics, so I finished it.  
>  This is my first Michifer fic and to be honest I'm pretty nervous about posting it, because I'm not a hundred per cent sure and satisfied with it.  
>  But, please, enjoy! :)
> 
> I'm a bit unsure about my tagging. If I missed something that might be a good idea to add, please let me know! Unbeta'd, all typos and mistakes are mine. Sorry for them.
> 
> Title is from Florence and the Machine's same song.
> 
> I started actively shipping them thanks to [weepingrace](http://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingrace/pseuds/weepingrace)

**_All This and Heaven Too_ **

****

Through the cacophony of noise and taunting cackle Lucifer heard the insistent thrum of four fingertips drumming in a fluid wave on the door. He could breathe again. It was Michael. Michael knocked like this, just the tip of his fingers, the point of his blunt nails, something he usually did absentmindedly when he was reading something good. The ability to connect the sound to something pleasant and calm soothed Lucifer.

Yet, it still took Michael another roll of his fingers until Lucifer could swallow down the thorn covered lump, pry away the flimsy hideous fingers from his throat and croak out a “come in.”

“Close your eyes. I don’t want to blind you,” Michael told him gently, his voice muffled through the wood.

Fear washed over Lucifer. Dark. That would be dark, and stifled, moist warm darkness that was only a hair’s width away from flames flaring burning his cool and by now he was aware enough of himself to know that he could leash out on Michael—

He fidgeted in his seat, wrangling his hands even despite the pain and the wet thick feeling running down his fingers.

“I’m good,” he scoffed eventually.

 _You are never good, your Highness. Not until you are back in your place. Your throne is waiting for you_ , the voices kept on whispering.

He could picture Michael sighing and rolling his eyes outside.

_You are restricting yourself. These stupid mud-monkeys. You were all right. You had the right to smite them on the spot. How dare they criticize the Prince of Darkness?_

Lucifer leapt to his feet. He was shaky and colourful dots danced in front of his eyes, but the image in the mirror was clear even despite the dusk outside.

His reflection grinned back at him. Taunting and all soulless black eyes.

_They are only worthy for you to walk on their corpses. And what do you do? Become their bitch—_

Blood was already blooming all over the place, what did a broken mirror matter now? He would break in his face for insulting him! Smash, restructure the bones until they are cracked under his fists, until his hands are covered with blood, would claw out those pearly black eyes and put them in a jar to float about because they were pretty in a way that matched perfectly in his sick, tortured fucked-up world—

Lucifer fell back into Michael’s arms. He didn’t even acknowledge the flood of gold light at the opening of the door. The only thing that matter was that his angel’s chest was firm, warm, even with the heart hammering at his ribcage so strong Lucifer could feel it even as fits of laughter seized his own body in cramps.

Michael still had his fingers wrapped firmly around Lucifer’s wrist, the one that wasn’t injured, the one he raised to smash in his own reflection, while the older tried to lead Lucifer back to his seat on the edge of the bathtub.

“Why so serious Michael?” Lucifer grinned and reached out with his other hand, the one drenched in blood and the glass shard still deep-embedded in his palm, to touch Michael’s cheek.

He giggled when he saw that now there was a dark red fingerprint on the sharp cheekbone.

Red suited Michael. Just as much as navy blue and gold did. It matched his fire perfectly. So the artist in him, so confident in himself brushed higher to paint a rose pattern of fingerprints on the golden-pale skin.

Michael shuddered and his eyes fluttered close as he tried to even out his breathing. He was frowning again. The creases were even deeper like this with the lighting from above, the sick glow of neon made him look stern and disapproving. The very same lines and creases the hissing voices pointed out downstairs.

_…He doesn’t care for you._

_… Look at this frown – he’s internally rolling his eyes. He thinks you are a pathetic baby who wants to kill himself every second of the day._

_…He has never loved you._

_… You are just a cod. He hates you…_

“Lucifer. I need you to calm down,” Michael told him firmly.

“You cannot boss me about!” Lucifer snapped immediately. The rose was forgotten and his fingers tightened on either side of Michael’s chin – the pain flashed like lightning from his palm to his shoulder and the electric sparks crackled around a supernova that was ready to burst and blind him, but he wouldn’t let go. “I don’t answer you. You don’t baby me!”

Michael placed his hands above Lucifer’s knees on his thighs.

“You asked for my help, remember?”

“Don’t dare to use this voice on me!”

“What voice?”

“I swear Michael!”

Anger bled into the pain, but before Lucifer could grab for Michael’s throat, wondering how deep the glass would cut Michael’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. His hold just strong enough to keep him in place.

“I need one push and you’d be under a cold shower, Lucifer.” Michael reminded him with that insufferable calm tone of his.

Lucifer was bleeding Michael should be freaking out!

“You don’t even care,” Lucifer sulked and attempted to push the other away with one foot. Michael only leaned more of his weight on the blonde’s left leg to keep both of them in balance and Lucifer from slipping into the bathtub.

“I do care. But you emit enough tension that the whole house would blow up if you lit your lighter.”

Lucifer chuckled. Well, that was true.

Biting in his lip Michael set to uncurl Lucifer’s fingers and inspect the wound. He grew rather pale.

“I should take you to the hospital,” he murmured.

“Don’t you dare!” Lucifer growled, suddenly at the very opposite end of the scale of emotions.

Michael sighed and looked into Lucifer’s eyes. His gaze was so bright and honest it was almost painful! “There is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’ve had enough hospitals for a lifetime.”

“But it’s a deep cut. You need stitches.”

“You have done it once, Michael, and look, my hand is better than ever! You have a med kit, dental floss, I’m sure Gabe has needles as well in there.”

The raven’s jaw clenched while Lucifer played stubborn and peevish. It was something Michael had serious troubles dealing with, but he didn’t want to fight anymore. Lucifer was just getting better dealing with his inner demons and his temper, he shouldn’t make it worse.

“—and I know for a fact that Raphael taught you a few things. What was the first aid course for anyway?”

“To learn CPR and also that such wound like yours needs a doctor.” Michael answered a bit strained and sat back on his hunches to search through the first aid kit. “This is going to hurt.”

“Tell me about it.”

It really did hurt, but it wasn’t that bad as far as Lucifer could keep his mind busy by following Michael’s movements. There was always a sense of purpose in all of them, something that Lucifer’s constant fidgeting and roaming flashes of ideas could never acquire. It was art on its own way.

“What’s happened exactly?” Michael asked. Now his voice was sterile, jaw clenched and eyes focused.

Lucifer ran his tongue absentmindedly over his chapped lips then around the cavern of his mouth trying to recollect his memories. It was rather blurry. The first clear thought he could recall for certain was that he was bleeding (and people freaked out when someone at a house-warming party was bleeding) and that he _needed_ Michael.

“I hate Gabriel’s new friends,” he said chewing his lip. “They are idiots.”

“You think the same about everyone.”

“You are an exception sometimes.”

Michael chuckled at that, softly, barely more than a huff, but it was a victory in Lucifer’s books. He amused his angel. And that’s already something. Plus, when he tried Michael could be really smart sometimes, he was just too slow at others. Lucky he was so handsome.

After he learnt the whys and got his instruction manual to Lucifer (totally useless if anyone bothered to ask the blonde with the whole nine circles of Hell inside his skull) Michael was really observant and picked up the smallest hints when Lucifer needed some angelic help to crush the coup those black-eyed monsters planned out against him. Downstairs, with the broken shard of glass already snuggled deep in the bedding of the flesh of his palm with thick velvet-red covers spilling over his fingers and slowly soaking through the pocket of his jeans, catching Michael’s eyes and a headtilt was enough to get his message through. Michael’s eyes, sharp as a hawk’s followed the trail down the folds of his way too big T-shirt and immediately found the blooming dark spot over Lucifer’s hidden fist.

It got easier by each week to ask for some help. Especially that he didn’t even have to word it nowadays.

“Baldur, or whatever was his name—“

“Is.”

“What?”

“It still is his name.” Michael corrected him between two stitches.

“Wishful thinking,” Lucifer muttered. “So he still is an arrogant dick. Thinks he is perfect, so pure and handsome and smooth.”

“So you thought it was a good idea to…?”

“I won’t lie, I wanted to gut him then and there, but. You know, _social norms_. A bottle just happened to be in my hand and so it smashed.”

Wrapping Lucifer’s hand up in a strip of gauze Michael sat back again to inspect the other’s face.

“You know how much I hate it when someone starts talking shit about my tattoos!”

“I know,” Michael hummed. With a groan he rose to his feet and stepped to the sink to wash his hands. “I wanted to ask, what does that new one say?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t pick at the bandage!” Lucifer dropped his hand into his lap with a grimace. It wasn’t like small knives cutting apart strips of flesh every second. It was rather a whole bundle of pulsating dull-warm pain.

Looking him sideways in the eyes through the mirror Michael waved at his collar. “The tattoo you haven’t showed me around your neck?”

Lucifer averted his gaze and started to count the folds of the lint strip around his hand. He remembered that there was a reason he hadn’t shown it to Michael yet – it was really rare. He always enjoyed teasing, taunting until Michael started guessing where he got his new tattoo, not that it happened that usually. And Lucifer more often than not got fed up with the other’s half-assed guesses until he ripped off his shirt, pants whatever piece of clothing covered the inked-up patch of skin to show off the piece of art that now could not be taken from him only if he was skinned…

“It’s calligraphy practice actually,” he murmured softly. “ _’Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven._ ’” With his good hand he pulled the collar of his shirt down to show the words running around his neck, their line broken by the jut of his collarbones.

“It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t find it fitting,” Michael noted dryly.

Lucifer huffed in defiance. “ _’Myself am Hell’_ after all.”

In the mirror Michael’s eyes searched his face for a second that seemed as long as eternity, then the shadows danced, dipped and twirled until his eyes gathered a greyish warm hue, features soft and rearranged into one of those secret smiles that would beat Mona Lisa any day and time.

“ _’The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven…’_ ”

“Did you just quote Paradise Lost back at me?” Lucifer asked with a wide, incredulous grin splitting his face. He pushed himself to his feet with a wince, and uncaring of the consequences pressed himself up to Michael’s back one of his arms loosely encircling his waist.

“I read a lot,” Michael deadpanned and leant into Lucifer’s embrace.

“But the way you read? When it’s shit you don’t even remember a word even if it’s robbed three hours of your day. And when I ask you about the other books you only hum. Sorry that I didn’t expect you to quote Milton out of the blue.”

Michael dipped his head and smiled gently. “It’s nice. The tattoo.”

“Thanks,” Lucifer mumbled and pressed his face between Michael’s shoulder blades.

In such a small place Michael’s wings were confined and they twitched constantly, his feathers ruffled because he could not spread them and he had to be careful in case he knocked over something. But even then Lucifer liked to snuggle up between them, feel the soft, dark feathers and be safe. Michael wasn’t one for cuddling or at least the active part came a bit hard to him, while there were times when Lucifer lived and died for the comfort of an embrace. So they came to the silent agreement that then Michael could be the little spoon. There had been some fights about it, but now they settled.

Silent places, stolen hugs, brushes of hands; this little obvious but still well-kept secret of theirs had its charm. No one knew for certain what was going on between them, Lucifer sometimes wondered if they knew exactly at all, but with his arms around Michael, the other’s warmth pressed up to his front, his fire keeping Lucifer’s inner demons at bay it didn’t matter.

The stars could stare through the tall windows of their flat when they slept entangled in each other, the wind could eavesdrop when Lucifer whispered about his new art-projects in the quiet of the night or when Michael read up for him. They didn’t have anyone to share their secrets with anyway. The demons lurking in dark corners, the edges of mirrors and in people’s eyes cowered and trembled in fear when Michael descended to Hell to crush the coup they prepared against their Lord. Knowing that the Prince of Heaven was Lucifer’s sword against them tied their malicious tongues.

“I love you, Michael,” Lucifer whispered against Michael’s nape and smiled at himself as the short hairs stood on end and tickled his nose.

“I know.”

“Would it kill you to say is back?” He nipped playfully at the back of Michael’s neck.

“Probably.” Michael deadpanned. “So what now? Shall we go home?”

“Didn’t you have a woman to wrap around your finger? I thought I interrupted business.”

“I got her name card. We’re having a meeting on Monday. Besides, I already told Gabriel that I forgot my glasses at home. I needed his med kit for a painkiller.”

“Oh, you dirty little liar,” Lucifer purred and placed his chin pointedly on Michael’s shoulder. As he batted his eyelashes they brushed the other’s skin like butterflies descending on a flower. “You never forget anything.”

“I’m still new to my glasses,” Michael pointed out with a shrug. “He is still afraid of me with a migraine.”

“Can you blame him?”

Michael turned his head to peck Lucifer on his temple.

“Just be prepared for next time’s never have I ever or whatever drinking game Gabriel comes up with.”

Reluctantly peeling himself off of Michael Lucifer gave him a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth before the laughter bubbled up from him.

“I can already hear it. Never have I ever fucked my roommate in my friend’s bathroom on his house-warming party. It would be funnier if you had to drink too.”

“ _Too_?” Michael cocked an unimpressed eyebrow in question.

“Well, you forced me to go to college.” Lucifer shrugged and wrapped his arm loosely around Michael’s waist. “It’s only fair I had some fun before I went totally crazy. Plus my roommate was hot, and not as stupid as the rest. Only a bit suggestible.”

“Okay. I’ll excuse us by Gabriel, you get your jacket and we go home,” Michael sidestepped elegantly though a bit quickly. It only fuelled the spread of the lewd smirk on Lucifer’s face.

“Michael, did I make you jealous?”

The elder slipped away in search of Lucifer’s younger brother without an answer.

Immediately, as Michael left he could hear the hissing of gas whispering through leaky pipes, he could feel the unsavoury smell of sulphur mingling with the crowd’s transpiration and the weak brush of evening air through the open windows. Now however, Lucifer could wave them away and only glare with his cold smirks at the comments flowing his way. He had his throne secured with an archangel guarding it.

Mentally he flipped through what movies they had at home. He needed something that would hold his interest for longer than twenty minutes, and something that Michael wouldn’t sit through with a poker-face. It’s just better that way if he intended the night to end with them making out like horny teenagers. If not more.

 


End file.
